Einherjar
by TrainScribbler
Summary: Continuation of Under the Goddess Moon. Loki is imprisoned, Maeve under the ever-watchful eye of Freya and something wicked is working it's way into Asgard, intent on pulling Thor's strings. Loki/OC, please read Under the Goddess moon first or you might be left going 'Eh?
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, I'm doing it. I don't have a completely clear picture of where I'm going with this or how it's going to end, and although I've chosen Marvel universe villains again, same as Under the Goddess Moon it won't be cannon with the actual Thor comics. But I'm doing it. Oh, and please forgive me for slow updates, I have to go back to work next week. *Rubs hands together* Here we go!**

* * *

"You want to please me, don't you?"

That voice. Honey coated words plucking at his heart strings. Damn her.

"You know I do…" he muttered, voice gruff. A slender finger drew it's way over his beard as she cooed at him, bringing her face so close to his he could count her eyelashes.

"Good. Then silence the All Father. I will deal with the rest."

* * *

Maeve Connor sat at Freya's table, glancing one way, then the other at her disembodied counterparts. Hundreds of them, eating, drinking copious amounts, many of them speaking languages she couldn't place. Most of them men but a few women scattered about too. Most were clothed in heavily embossed armour and they looked proud.

They all looked alive enough.

Her experiments had started small. An intentional stumble here, a thumb caught on a thorn there. All with the same results.

It was winter now. She approximated she'd been there six months or so, but honestly she couldn't tell for sure. Six months of quietly tested patience. Her conversations with Freya became few and far between. She had thousands of souls to care for and no fresh answers to Maeve's questions when she did manage to catch her.

She looked down at her own empty plate, letting out a low breath. Breaking the habit of eating had been a surprisingly easy one. Once an American soldier had sat next to her, an Asatru who'd fallen in Vietnam. He'd asked her why she didn't eat. Her answer had been simple enough but he didn't like it.

"What's the point? It's not real."

He hadn't sat next to her again.

Silently she pushed her plate away, then reached for her knife, her gaze flickering about. Nobody was paying her any mind. With a slight smile she lay her hand down on the wooden table, twitching her fingertips. One, two, three.

With a grunt she brought the tip of the knife down onto the back of her hand, driving it home until it stuck in the wood beneath. It hurt like hell and her eyes flushed with hot tears as those nearest her jumped up from their seats in shock and disgust. Her mouth filling with saliva, she heaved on the knife's handle until she pulled it out again, lifting her pierced hand to study the wound quickly, rivulets of blood streaking her arm. It was gaping, she could see right through it. At least for a few moments.

Within seconds fibrous tissue was stretching over it, healing almost instantly. Her sleeve was soaked with her own blood but by the time one of Freya's handmaidens was pulling her to her feet the cause was gone, the skin where the piercing had been only tingling mildly. Not so much as a scar. She was feeling slightly hysterical, half laughing, half crying as she was shuffled out of the hall, already becoming the subject of gossip to those left behind.

* * *

Frigga stood before the cell, waiting. Every day she would come to Loki and at first he would not speak with her at all. As time passed sometimes he would rush to meet her, fingers outstretched through his cage to touch hers, other times he was hopelessly lost in his own thoughts. When he finally did begin to speak it was strained, his voice hoarse from disuse. He would enquire after her health then lapse back into silence. Sometimes she would find him toying with a small figure woven from grass, discoloured brown and brittle. Once the guards had tried to relieve it from him as contraband and narrowly escaped a broken neck.

As days fell into weeks and months he began to impart tiny details of what had happened on Midagard, of the girl who had fallen beneath Thanos. Frigga would listen attentively, her heart feeling on the verge of breaking. In the beginning he had sounded hopeful, whispering once to her that he was sure she was in Asgard. But as time marched on that hope faded. Every visit eventually incurred the same question and today he opened their conversation with it;

"Is she here, Mother?"

She shook her golden head, settling into a seat the guards had brought for her.

"I do not know."

He sat on the bench in his cell, head bent low, exhaling slowly. Frigga slid her hand between the grids of his cell and without looking up he curled his fingers around hers, muttering,

"You're cold. You should be in your chambers by the fire, not here."

"You are still my son, Loki," she replied, brushing her thumb over his knuckles. "I shall be here until either you are released or the Heavens fall."

Loki looked up at her slowly, his clear green eyes hollow in his face.

"How do you bear it?" he said softly, a crease in his brow. "All Odin has put you through in your long marriage. How can you forgive so much?"

"He is my husband. My love for him is not conditional, just as it is not for you." She smiled at him, a weary, sorrowful smile. Loki gazed back at her levelly, squeezing her fingers. In all of the betrayals he had incurred since that foray into Jotunheim, hers was the only he would ever forgive. Every word she said rang true and there was nothing she could ask of him he would not do. Still, he had to ask again;

"Is she here?"

"I do not know…"

He closed his eyes, letting out a breath before bowing his head to kiss the back of her hand tenderly.

"Go upstairs. I will not have you sit here in the cold anymore," he said, releasing her fingers. He looked away, back to staring blankly at the opposite wall and felt her brush his cheek fleetingly.

"Until tomorrow, my darling," she whispered. When she rose the guards came stamping back down the stairs, whisking away her seat and it was with one last long look back to his hunkered form that Frigga mounted the steps, lavender gown trailing behind her as she went.

* * *

Maeve stood in the circular bath tub, allowing herself to be scrubbed by one of Freya's handmaidens, the water lapping at her shins scarlet. The chamber around her was humid, marble warmed by a roaring fire in a hearth cut ten feet high into the wall. When she was clean she was dressed in a deep blue gown, grey fur lining the inside to keep out the biting cold of Asgard's winter, before being marched ceremoniously to the Goddess' seat. She stood before the mammoth throne of silver, Freya padding down the steps with her cats at her heels, motionless as creamy hands gripped her small shoulders.

"I heard what happened at table," she said in her rich voice, tucking a finger under Maeve's chin to force her to look up. "What possessed you to do such a thing?"

"I wanted to see what would happen," the girl replied simply. Freya sighed, turning to pace around her.

"I know you are finding the transition difficult," she said, "but you must understand, it was for your good that I brought you here. I was trying to show you a kindness."

"A kindness?" Maeve echoed, looking at the Goddess over her shoulder. "I don't even know what am I anymore…"

"You are Maeve," Freya replied.

"You know what I mean!" cried the girl in frustration. "Am I flesh, or spirit, some sort of illusion? I bleed and I feel pain but then it's gone! What happens if I suffocate? What if I cut off my own head?"

The Asgardian crossed to take her into an embrace but the smaller girl slapped her hands away, cheeks pink beneath her freckles. Freya's golden brows knitted in a frown and she returned to sitting in her throne, the cats remaining to stare up at Maeve intently.

"You are flesh and spirit both," she said evenly, fingers closing over the arms of her seat. "Free of certain limitations, but not without them."

"Meaning?"

"If you are cut you will bleed. If you fall into a lake, you will drown. Some of these things can be undone, others cannot. And there is no second chance after here, Maeve. So I implore you not to do anything foolish…" The Goddess tilted her head to look down at her, a frown lining her lovely brow.

"I cannot take away the hurts you have already suffered," she continued more gently, "I know what it is that you want but I cannot simply give it to you. You are not a foolish child. I know you studied magic and lore before you were brought here. You know what could happen if he is not contained…"

At this Maeve dropped her gaze, the prickling heat in her face growing worse.

"That said, I owe Loki a debt that is long withstanding. If and when the opportunity arises that I am able to repay him, I will see it done."

Maeve bit down on her lower lip, her eyes burning. She could hear Freya approaching her again, warm palms on her cheeks.

"Patience," came her soft voice. "Release this anger. You are not being held here out of cruelty." The girl looked up at her, nodding, tears spilling over.

"I know," she whispered. And she did. But it didn't stop it feeling cruel.

* * *

Frigga found the All Father stood on the balcony of his chambers, cloak swaying at his heels from the wind. A light sprinkling of snow was coming down over Asgard, dappling the golden buildings with white lace. She drew up beside him, hand resting on his arm. Odin didn't ask where she'd been. He himself could not find the mettle to go to Loki. To see those eyes staring at him accusingly, his son long since lost.

Far below there were riders on the bridge towards his hall, kicking up sprays of powdery snow, cloaks billowing. They were closing in rapidly and the king watched them intently, his worn face grim. Those who rode at such speed never bore good tidings.

Turning to look at Frigga, he cupped her face in a rare moment of tenderness, her cerulean gaze imploring him.

"I cannot release him," he said, voice fatigued. She nodded, closing her eyes to nestle her cheek further into his palm. She knew already and had long since stopped asking but still he would say it to her. The way she looked at him was unchanging, silently pleading for him to reconsider.

Far below his preternatural senses could feel unrest and he pulled his hand away, gaze going through her as he muttered,

"There are matters that I must attend to." Frigga nodded, linking her hands over her stomach as he strode from the room, all politics once more. She could feel unrest creeping it's way over her like an oncoming storm, some unfounded feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. After a beat she turned back to the balcony, watching the snow and trying to assure herself it was her mind playing tricks on her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again, guys! Glad to see some familiar faces popping in to read and review. I hope that Einherjar doesn't dissapoint. It's meant to be a much bigger story, reviews would be really helpful with this one as I'm trying to go way bigger and bolder and it'd be handy to know if it was working :)**

Odin stood before his throne when the riders were brought in, swathed in furs and still downed with snow. They were led by armed guards, one shape massive and hulking, a double headed axe strapped across his back, the other far smaller, rich yellow curls spilling from under their hood. They threw back their hoods, kneeling before him with forearms crossing their breasts and when the woman brought her deep green eyes up to gaze at the king, she broke into a smile, full lips parting to reveal perfect teeth. She was beauteous, her eyes large and smoky, a narrow nose set between pronounced cheek bones, the line of her neck peeked through her hair utterly feminine. Odin found himself smiling, stepping down from the throne to open his arms to her.

"Amora. Such a woman you have become," he said as she got to her feet, embracing him as an old acquaintance. Her companion, a behemoth man reaching seven feet, with tan skin and a shaven head, chiselled features torn by scars, remained kneeling.

"All Father," the woman said silkily as she straightened up, kissing the old man on either cheek. "Forgive the intrusion, if it were not a matter of complete urgency I would not disturb your hall."

"Not at all. You are always welcome here. It was not so long ago you ran through these rooms chasing my sons like a wolf." He held her shoulders, laughing, though it was bittersweet.

"Perhaps not for you, my Lord," she replied with another of those dazzling smiles. "However I believe it would be uncouth to run as a boy does now. When you are a child much is acceptable."

"Would for those days again…" Odin muttered, more to himself than her. He glanced over her shoulder at the still kneeling figure. "And your companion?" The woman followed his gaze, glancing back. The man kept his eyes on the floor.

"Skurge, stand before our King," she said firmly. Obediently he did so, drawing to his full massive height, blue eyes unblinking as he bowed his shaven head in a nod to Odin. His shoulders were impossibly broad, thick ropes of muscle and vein outstanding on his neck. When he lifted his face again he dropped his arm from his chest, fingers flexing in their leather gloves.

"My protector," Amora said, tilting her lovely head as she looked at the giant of a man. "Skurge. He has been ever faithful to me. I would not think of travelling without him." She looked back up at the All Father, closing her hands around his and bringing her face closer, her voice dropping to hushed tones.

"There have been whisperings regarding your son. Is there somewhere we might speak in private?"

Odin fixed his single eye on her, searching her. She looked back at him levelly, her gloved fingers tightening on his.

"Please," she said, a touch of urgency now in those dulcet words. "I do not believe it is something you should wish others to hear." She brought her shapely cheek almost to rest on his, breath warm in his ear as she said only for him to hear,

"Volla is dead..."

* * *

Amora reclined in her seat, one leg crossed over the other as she watched Odin pace, Skurge stood beside her like an obedient lap hound. She tugged her gloves off one finger at a time, folding them over the arm of her seat before she spoke;

"As soon as she made the prophecy she fell into a catatonic state and died shortly thereafter. Her last words were of Loki. What horrors she must have seen by his hand to bring about her very end…"

The All Father seemed barely aware of her presence at this point, agitation causing red spots in his cheeks. Amora rose from her chair slowly, casting off her cloak as she did, shoulders bare, flashes of thigh visible between layers of skirts as she strode towards him purposefully, kneeling before him, her cheek pressed to his thigh, hands wound round the back of his legs.

"My Lord, I did not mean to cause you such suffering," she breathed, looking up at him slowly, her eyes deep and dark. "Foretold is forearmed though, don't you agree?"

Odin gazed down at her, face lined with fear and misery. She had him. He was leaning over, picking her up to her feet, moving her hair away from her face, remembering the child she had been, the days she had shared with his beloved sons. She gave him a perfectly placed smile, one full of woe and burden.

"My King, you are the wisest of all beings. I am certain you will find a way to halt the passage of this twilight, this… Ragnarok," she said, voice sweetness and sorrow. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Skurge watching, face void of expression. Odin brushed her cheek, shoulders sinking. She had not expected it to be this easy to break him.

"I had been sure there would be more time…" he muttered, to himself, not her.

"There still may be yet," she said, bringing her fingers up to rest on his arms, pushing those fatherly thoughts further. "Volla made the conditions clear enough. I simply knew you would want to hear her words as soon as possible from someone you could trust. Loki was once my dear friend, after all…"

A small shake of the head, his one eye distant, gaze aching. She didn't need any magic for this. The old man had cursed himself already.

"You did well, Amora. You will rest here tonight," he said, seemingly hardly aware of his own words. "Thor will be glad to see you."

She bowed her shining head low, releasing him as she did. Her work was done.

"You are most gracious, my King. I will leave you to your thoughts," she said softly, casting a glance at Skurge as she straightened. He was already moving, going to heave the door of the chamber open. As he did Frigga became visible outside, waiting. She looked at Amora steadily, keeping her gaze trained on her as she paced past, the massive man in tow. As soon as she was gone the Queen was sweeping into the chamber, the doors rumbling against each other as they closed.

The pair walked swiftly along the corridors in silence, Amora slowly smiling to herself. That had gone better than she ever could have hoped.

* * *

Maeve sat in the snow, looking up into the flurry, flakes landing on her eyelashes. Although thick it seemed to never quite settle on the meadow, the wildflowers and grass looking as fresh as ever. Beyond she could see the stars and the rainbow branches of Yggdrasil, for she knew now that was what she witnessed.

She smiled slightly as more flakes landed on her face, melting against her skin. She was cold. Casting off her cloak she held her hands out, palms up to catch the snow. Cold and wet.

Beyond Freya was watching her silently, a thick cloak of jet black feathers pulled around her shoulders. One of the cats wove it's way beneath the hem, curling at her feet to warm itself. The small girl was getting to her feet, powdery white spilling from her hair and clothing as she moved. She raised her hands high over her head, turning slowly in the storm. The Asgardian looked down at her familiars, then back at the girl, the sigh she released creating a slip of steam in the air.

"Something is going to have to be done about her soon…"

* * *

Amora sat at one end of the long table, pretending not to notice the looks she was getting. She could hear whispers from the men and even some of the women about her, taking it in her stride as she ate delicately. Skurge hung at a far corner of the hall, his eyes never leaving her. Occasionally she would gaze up at him over her goblet as she drank, as though she were pulling him into her with each mouthful of wine. She was toying with him, he knew, flirting wordlessly across the space.

He lost her attention however when Thor entered the hall, sitting beside Odin and Frigga's empty places. They had not appeared all evening. Amora doubted they would leave their chambers at all after the news she had delivered. As it was, she was counting on it.

He didn't notice her immediately. He was amongst his comrades, laughing and boasting with them. Odin had not shared the news with him yet then. Good.

It was only when the meal was reaching it's close that he idly glanced down the table, eyes fixating upon her. She wasn't looking at him. She had struck up a conversation with the man opposite, purposefully ignoring him. Even when she knew he was standing, approaching her, she kept talking, something idle and stupid about some hunt she had no interest in.

Eventually he was stood behind her, clearing his throat, extending a calloused hand. She didn't look up just yet, letting him dangle a little longer.

"Lady?" he said, his voice a deep baritone. Amora could barely suppress a smile as she slowly brought her emerald eyes up to his, letting her hair fall in such a way that it expertly framed her face, softening her features.

"My Lord Thor," she said, rising languidly from her seat, her voice husky. She dropped into a smooth curtsey, hearing him laugh warmly as she rose.

"Such formalities!" By the time he was up he was pulling her into his powerful arms and she took a moment to close her eyes, privately enjoying herself. He had always been her favourite. When she straightened up she looked up at him, taking a moment to study his face. He was always handsome but now grown he was breathtaking. Square, strong jaw, bright blue eyes that twinkled with silent laughter as he smiled, rippling hair the colour of sunlight. She found herself smiling back, knowing it was warm and beautiful. While his affections were not her main objective, having them certainly wouldn't hurt.

"You have changed much since you were small," he said, eyes flickering over her briefly. She wanted him to look at her, to study her. Let what she was born with do it's work first. "What are you doing here now?"

"Such converse would not be suitable for table, my Lord," she replied, casting her senses out as they spoke. A black haired maiden, one she knew as Sif, was livid. Beyond others were admiring her more than was polite to do so. In the very distance Skurge's mind was blank, awaiting her word.

"Then we will adjourn to elsewhere," Thor was saying, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm, his face still lit. "Who would have thought it, Amora returned to the house of my father? Come, you must tell me all."

Then he was steering her out of the hall, away from the lights of the fires, out onto a balcony. Silently she projected to her waiting serf;

_Not yet._

* * *

"And you are sure of these things?"

"Volla had never been wrong, that I know of, my Lord."

They were stood together on the balcony, the twilight of the sky illuminating Amora's face ethereally. Thor looked down at the city with a wounded expression, his large hands closed tightly around the golden rail. He was distraught, though trying to contain it. Vulnerable.

"I was sure, after Midgard, after the woman… I was so sure he would change," he muttered, frowning despondently. Amora tilted her head to peer at him, sliding in closer.

"Woman?" she asked, curiosity piqued. Apparently there was something she had not been privy to when extracting her information from the prophetess.

"On Earth, while Loki was in exile, there was a woman," the thunder God said gruffly. Some hurt was beneath his words. "She was killed. It was not a glorious death. My brother suffered greatly. I was sure that her affections had changed something in him."

Amora drank up his words eagerly. This was something she had not counted on.

"Poor, poor Loki," she whispered, reaching to brush Thor's hair aside from his face. "I have missed him greatly since we were children. And you…"

He looked at her then, handsome face a mask of warring emotions. She was wheedling her way in, but perhaps he needed a nudge. As her fingers passed through his hair she released a small surge of power, so slight it would not be felt as it sank into his mind, drawing him in.

"Leaving to go to my studies was one of the most difficult days of my life," she whispered, bringing her face closer to his, letting him breathe in her caramel scent. "I was a girl yes, but I knew where I would rather have remained."

He was leaning towards her, wanting her comfort after the blow she had delivered. Closer and closer still, another slither of magic as she passed her fingers through his hair again.

"I always believed you favoured Loki. You were clever, like him." He was becoming drunk on her, desire oozing from him, not entirely of her creation.

"He was easy company, like a brother to me. But you were beautiful and brave. I could not speak my mind to you then, it would have been easy for you to break my heart and I was a child…"

Their foreheads touched. So close now. A little further and he would be utterly hers.

"You are not a child now…"

He brought his lips down on hers, hot and wanting. Triumphant, she wound her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly, feeling him sink under her spell. His kiss was raw and greedy and as she allowed him to lean her over backwards she extended her mind to Skurge, her silent command one word;

_Now._

* * *

The soldier barrelled forwards out of the shadows, killing both of the guards in seconds with a singular swing of his axe, the weapon slicing through their spines like butter. The moment Amora had left the banquet hall he had turned and strode to Odin's chambers, her magic concealing him so that anyone who saw him found themselves second guessing a moment later if it was anything but a shadow.

Using his cloak to wipe the blood from his blades, he pushed the doors to Odin's chamber open. The King was stood alone. Frigga was nowhere to be seen. A hiccup but not a serious one.

When Skurge entered the chamber the All Father drew his golden sword from the stead of his bed, face grim. The dark man's face cracked into an unpleasant smile.

"I knew you would come," Odin said, his old voice taking on a proud, commanding tone. He would not be undone without a fight. "Amora is not as talented as she believes."

"Talented enough," Skurge rumbled, throwing himself forwards with a roar. Axe clashed against blade, shooting blue sparks into the air. The soldier bore all his weight down onto the king, buckling him, then twisted the head of the axe, ripping the sword out of his grip. It flew across the room and clattered onto the floor, Odin letting out a roar. Skurge took one powerful hand and closed it in a fist around the All Father's robes, dragging him closer, to hiss in his face,

"Time to sleep, my King."

With that her grappled hold of the old man's head and twisted it violently, snapping his neck like a brittle twig. He dropped him unceremoniously onto the ground, his head twisting at an ugly angle he lay crumpled. It would not be enough to kill him, but now he was removed from the equation. Amora had her way.

Picking up his axe, he lumbered out of the chamber, closing the doors behind him. He could feel her spells working over him, making him invisible, a glamour over those at the banquets convincing them he had been there all along. Threads of magic winding their way out from her over Odin's hall like a gossamer spider-web, already beginning to seize control.

He hoped she would be pleased with his contribution.


	3. Chapter 3

Frigga fled deep into the bowels of the palace, two guards at her heels to protect her. Spiralling downwards she clutched a short sword in one hand, holding the skirts of her gown in the other, bidding her escorts to wait at the top as she glided down the steps to Loki's cell. She dismissed the others watching over him as well, leaving the two of them alone in the dungeon as she ran to his prison. He was up and moving towards the front wall the moment he saw her approaching, reaching a hand between the pikes to her, his jaw set as he took in the sight of her armed and afraid.

"What has happened?" he said quickly, his grip on her fingers firm.

"Someone means to usurp your father," she said in a hurried whisper, nervously glancing over her shoulder. "It may already be in motion."

Ignoring her choice of words her pulled on her hand, encouraging him to look at her again.

"Who, mother?"

"Amora," she hissed, "Loki, she is in the hall now!" She was frantic, her fingers trembling in his.

Amora? The chitlet who had tarried after he and Thor when they were children?

"Let me out," he said urgently, tugging on her hand again. Odin's hall could crash down around him for all he cared but Frigga's safety was another matter.

"I cannot," she whispered desperately. "Only your father had the power to undo this cage and I fear it may already be too late for him to do so. I came simply to warn you."

Loki dropped his gaze, snarling in frustration. When he looked up again his face was stern, emerald eyes flickering with anger.

"And Thor?" he said, struggling with the very words.

"I cannot find him…"

He reached his other hand through the bars as well to touch her chin, holding her gaze.

"Flee. If we cannot protect you then you must run beyond her reach. I will find a way to you," he said softly. She closed her hand over his, pressing it to her cheek.

"I am sorry," she breathed, shame and regret in her eyes. He frowned at her, shaking his head.

"Don't be. But you must go. As far and as fast as you can. Go now." She nodded, tenderly kissing his palm as she pulled his hand away. Running up a few of the steps, she paused, turning to look back at him as he stood in the centre of his cell, hands clasped behind his back, watching her go.

"He is still your father, Loki," she said, before turning to run up the stairs. Loki looked up at the empty space she left behind silently, then tried to throw his mind out, projecting to see what was happening above. When he did though a searing pain shot through his skull and he stopped immediately, breathing deep and cursing Odin's name. No magic, no escape. The All Father may well have been his own undoing.

* * *

Frigga wound her way through the passages of the palace, up to the throne room, the guards inspecting the way for her first. As she ran along the bevelled floor she hear footsteps coming the other way and Sif appeared over a stepped platform, flanked by her own escort of guards, her eyes bloodshot and teary. Upon seeing Frigga she broke into a sprint to her, falling to one knee before her. The Goddess bent to pull her up hurriedly, her hushed voice echoing around the deserted hall;

"Sif, where is Thor?"

"I do not know. But my Queen, the All Father…" The shield maiden was choking on her words, shaking her dark head. "He has been attacked, my Lady. I came to find you as soon as I was able…"

The Queen was running then, Sif skidding after her, up to Odin's chambers. Outside the door were armed guards and servants, milling and whispering to one another, the hacked bodies of the guards at their feet, dark puddles of blood slicking the floor.

She jostled her way through, dropping her sword when she saw the All Father being lifted by several of the royal guard, his head lolling at an obscene angle. Carefully they placed him on the bed and Frigga paced slowly over, sinking, numb, to her knees beside him. Healers were running into the room, the Queen falling into a sort of private bubble, unable to see anything but her husband, panicked cries around her glancing off as though she could not hear them.

Skilled hands of the healers were forcing Odin's head to rights, realigning crushed vertebrae and then he was being sealed into the bed, a cocoon of golden light washing over him. Frigga wound her fingers through his cold ones, heartsick. Around her Sif was clearing people out, going so far as to threaten death upon those who would not leave, commanding runners to search for Thor. Finally she knelt beside Frigga, her dark eyes looking upon the wounded Odin in horror.

"My Queen, what would you have me do?" she whispered, voice breaking.

"Remain with me," Frigga replied softly, thumb caressing the back of the All Father's frozen hand. "Loki bade me flee but I cannot now. If I am to protect our King from any further harm, I would have someone near me I can trust."

She looked up at Sif levelly and the shield maiden gave her a slow nod, resting her hand over the Queen's, encompassing both hers and Odin's.

"I swear, my Lady, I will defend you both with my very life."

* * *

Thor awoke to find Amora wrapped around him, her golden head resting on his bare chest. He looked down at her, running his fingertips down her smooth back, trying to recall how he had come to this point. All he knew was he felt content and sated, at least for now. His desire for her had been overwhelming, beginning to stir again already. Mentally he chided himself for not being more attentive to her when they were younger.

A sudden hammering on the door roused her from her sleep, a voice calling his name urgently. He carefully lay her aside and slid out of the bed, she watching silently from her pillow as he pulled on a robe and opened the door, scowling at the servant on the other side. Pulling the silken sheets up to cover herself, she sat up, listening carefully, hearing mention of Odin and Thor's face was falling. Closing her eyes, she stretched her mind out, feeling for Skurge. He was skulking nearby, still hidden by her hand, waiting for her to rise.

_Well done._

When she opened her eyes again it was to see Thor leaving the room in a frantic state. Dressing quickly she followed him, wanting to see for herself. He threw the doors to his father's chamber open to find Sif waiting on the other side, spear and shield in hand. Amora hovered a few feet behind, watching. The shield maiden let him past silently, looking at him in a way that the enchantress found insipid. He was falling at the All Father's bedside, his mother looking at him despondently, her hand on his head. They spoke in whispered voices, Thor grasping his father's arm, weeping.

Sif turned away, looking out of the doors at Amora, dark eyes accusing. She looked back at her with feigned grief and worry. She was utterly safe. Sif had no way to connect her with what had occurred, she had an alibi with Thor and Skurge had been so deeply concealed within her magic that all who'd seen him would scarcely recall his existence.

And then Thor was there, falling back into her arms, damp face buried into the soft skin of her shoulder and Sif looked as though she were about to vomit.

She led him back to his rooms silently, settling onto the bed, slipping her hands inside his robe, her lips on his jaw and neck, a balm to him. She could feel him yielding, falling back amongst the pillows and pulling her down too. He paused her in her track of kisses, catching a handful of her golden hair and letting it cascade through his fingers as he whispered miserably;

"I am to be king…"

* * *

Thor was sworn in without ceremony. There was no room for celebration. Amora watched from a distance, Skurge by her side, as he took up the spear and sat on the throne. Frigga was not there, nor Sif.

"Neatly done," the soldier whispered to her as they watched, fingers briefly touching the hollow between her shoulder blades.

"Just one more loose end to be tied," she replied, looking at him with a satisfied smile, emerald eyes glinting, before gazing back at Thor as he settled awkwardly into the seat, misguided guilt written all over his face. "Watch, my sweet. I shall be queen before this moon is out."

* * *

"You must speak to this of no one."

"You have my word, my Queen."

Sif stood before Frigga in full armour, thick fur cloak pulled around her. In her hand she clutched a roll of leather, a parchment letter hidden within. She glanced down at Odin, looking frail and hollow upon the bed, then bowed her head deeply.

"Ride swiftly, let no one see you leave if you can help it. This word must get to Freya while we still have chance." Frigga pulled her into a tight embrace, , pressing a maternal kiss to her brow.

"I will not fail you," the shield maiden said, fist across her chest when she straightened again. "You will not be abandoned in this, my Lady."

"Go now," the Goddess whispered, steering her towards the door and looking out at the corridor, sending her guards to escort Sif out.

* * *

Loki felt her presence before her heard her. She stood outside his cell, curling her fingers around the metal, her voice saccharine.

"Loki. Such tales I have heard of you of late."

He turned his head slowly and she was there beside him, in the cell, looking up at him with a wolfish smile. She was beautiful, honey coloured hair tumbling down past her shoulders in thick waves, her sharp green eyes looking up at him commandingly. Dressed in the deepest emerald silk edged with golden fur, hugging every curve perfectly, she was truly a sight to behold. Loki felt his skin prickle, on edge.

"You have changed," he said slowly, eyes quickly flickering away from her to see there were no guards anymore.

"As have you," she replied, walking around him slowly, tracing her fingers over his back as she went. "Such… Ambition. A pity, that your fall from grace was so spectacular. You have great promise."

"What are you doing, Amora?" he said, careful to keep his tone even. She paused, stood behind to brush the nape of his neck, chin resting on his shoulder as she whispered in his ear;

"I come to you with a proposition. One that would see you out of this cage."

Loki closed his eyes, clenching his teeth. He could smell magic on her, she stank of it.

"Thor is king now, did you know?" she continued, twisting her fingers into his hair. "Odin fell into his sleep quite suddenly and your mother instated him. He is so… pliable. We have become great friends again." She brushed her lips fleetingly on his earlobe and he could feel rage swelling within him.

"Stop that," he hissed, stepping away from her.

"Oh yes," Amora said, laughing softly. "I almost forgot, your tastes lie elsewhere, don't they?" He felt her hand on his arm and when he looked up, for a moment he almost forgot where he was, what was happening.

Maeve was stood before him, small, sweet Maeve, gazing up at him with cornflower blue eyes, her hand coming up to rest on his cheek. She stepped into his arms and he gazed down at her as he held her, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, stark against her white skin. She was tilting her head, beckoning him to kiss her and he almost did, stopping just short as she whispered,

"I can give you whatever you wish, Loki."

The spell broke. She was not Maeve, she was a vulgar mirror of her and with a roar he had her up against the wall by her throat, the façade melting away, Amora laughing as she waved a hand, a blast of blue light hurtling him back to release her.

"Pathetic," she muttered, taking a moment to preen her hair. "But if that is what pleases you, I could make it so. Loki, swear yourself to me and you could reside over Asgard by my side, rise to glory once more. You could see her face whenever you wished, it would be as though she never died."

Loki dragged himself to his feet, chest and pride aching. Her gaze flickered around his cell and she shrugged her shoulders, one hand resting on her hip.

"Of course, alternatively you can stay here. It makes no mind to me whether you say yes or no. You're talented but I have spent many years perfecting my art. I do not need another sorcerer. I just thought you might like to spend the rest of your years in my favour rather than as my prisoner." Dark green eyes, full of malice now, met his levelly, her voice dangerous.

"Make your choice."

Loki let out a low laugh, turning to sit on his bench, resting his hands on his knees.

"You made two mistakes," he said, shaking his head with a broad smile. "If you hadn't I might have considered your offer. But you did. The first was making my mother a victim in her own home. The second was stealing the face of the woman I loved." He stood slowly and Amora backed away, melting through the bars of his cell like they weren't there, standing on the other side out of his reach. He drew up level to the spikes, looking at her intently through them.

"When I am free of this prison, and you can be assured that I will be, I am going to deal with you personally," he continued, his voice dangerously soft. "Not for Asgard, not for Odin, not for Thor. But because you always were and still are a precocious, spoilt brat and your attempt to control me was a step too far."

For a moment she looked afraid. But she gathered herself quickly, head poised as she countered,

"I do not think that day will come soon. None but the king can open this cell and Thor belongs to me."

She left in a flurry of billowing silk, the guards returning in something of a dazed state. Loki sank onto the bench, head in his hands. The glimpse of the false Maeve had left him reeling. Reaching into the folds of his robes he pulled out the grass doll, turning it in his hands, his brow furrowed. Amora clearly had big plans.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hullo again folks! Quick apology for the Freya-Frigga confusion. It doens't help that Marvel made their names more similar, in the original myths they're Freyja and Frigg . Still, don't let history get in the way of good story telling eh? BTW if anyone has any questions about all the extra bits of mythology I'm popping in here and there, feel free to ask, I'll answer to the best of my abilities.**

* * *

Sif drove her horse on through the night, through the snow, eyelashes freezing, face wind burnt and raw. She reached Folkvangr as dawn was approaching, practically falling off her horse as women were running from the entrance to Freya's hall to help her, slumping in their grasp.

They led her to bathe in blistering water, hot mead passed to her in silver chalices, rubbing her burns with soothing oils, then redressed her in a heavy velvet and fur robe. As soon as she was able to stand they led her to Freya, clutching her message from Frigga to her chest defensively.

She sat at the steps of her seat as Freya unfurled the leather strapping and read, her sylph-like face growing hard. For a long while she questioned Sif, then rose to her feet, looking down at her.

"I will come to Frigga. Clearly some madness has occurred in Odin's hall," she said, fingers fleetingly touching the heavy gold necklace resting at the hollow of her throat. Sif looked up at her hopefully, crossing her arm over her chest in salute as she stood.

"Thank you, Lady, thank you. You may be the All Father's salvation."

The fair haired woman gave her a regal smile, though it was taut with concern, After bidding Sif to rest as her guest until the next morning, she went to find Maeve.

The girl was down by the lake, knelt on the hard, frozen ground of the shore. As Freya approached she saw her carefully laying some simple objects out before herself, including a black feather she suspected had been snatched from her cloak, a handful of small shining pebbles, a little pile of snow, all carefully arranged in a circle roughly etched in the ground, encompassing her too. She was using a stone point to mark it, and when it was closed she leant over, drawing what appeared to be a two sides of a triangle on its side, the last edge missing, amongst the little cluster of found objects. Freya watched quietly, recognising it as the rune kenaz. She had nothing to make fire with so the representation of it would have to do.

She watched carefully as Maeve folded her hands in her lap, closing her eyes, lips moving silently. With a smile she realised she was praying. Among the realm of Gods but praying still.

She let her sit in peace until she was done, throwing a stone in the ice to break it and dropping her little treasures into the water through the hole, scrubbing the marks out of the dirt with her hands and wiping them clean on the ice. When she stood up she stiffened at the sight of Freya, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold. The Asgardian silently beckoned her over with a wave of her hand and she approached tentatively, cloak hanging off one shoulder, hair frosted at the tips from the snow.

Freya took her hand as a mother might her child's, leading her away from the lake wordlessly, out across the meadow, further and further until sure they were utterly alone. Then she turned to look at the girl, brushing raven tendrils of hair away from her face and pulling her hood up.

"Something had happened to the All Father. Frigga has sent word out for me to come to her aid and I have decided to take you with me," she said softly, holding her small shoulders. "Do you understand what I am telling you?"

Maeve looked up at her with large eyes, then nodded slowly.

"I make no promises to you, Maeve," Freya continued, bowing her head to speak in little more than a whisper. "But I will take you there, on the condition you do exactly as I say at all times. Understood?"

Another nod. She could see the girl was fighting not to be hopeful, setting herself up for disappointment in order to protect herself, but deep in those eyes the small spark was undeniable.

* * *

Maeve was dressed as one of Freya's handmaidens, in robes and hooded cloak of deep black, concealed amongst the group. She was helped onto a horse, locking her thighs to the saddle in terror. She had never ridden one before in her life but here she was, thrown in at the deep end.

The group was small, eight of them in all, including Freya in her chariot and a woman she didn't recognize, dark hair slicked back away from her face, silver armour strapped to her torso. When she mounted her horse she tucked a spear under her arm, wrapping her reins around one wrist.

When they struck out Maeve kept bent low over the horse's neck, the wind stinging her eyes. The horse didn't seem to pay her any notice, keeping pace with the others as they galloped. After a while she began to realise it didn't matter she had never ridden before. Apparently Asgardian equine were expert at not throwing their passengers.

She didn't know how long they travelled for, the cold and the soreness in her legs and back making her lose track of time as she withdrew into herself. It was only when she heard Freya by her side, the horse slowing to a canter, saying gently,

"Look up, Maeve," that she came to again, straightening in her saddle with a gasp. It was night, the snow was a fine dusting now and they were passing under a mammoth golden bridge, flanked by statues a hundred feet high, bearing spears and shields, guarding the way. She twisted to look around herself, at the impossible architecture, spires and towers, intricate domes, all gleaming in the starlight, miles of splendour and decadence. She could feel the eyes of the dark haired woman on her as she gaped, quickly dropping her gaze, hood low over her face. Freya had told her not to draw attention to herself.

They were passing people, who swept into low bows before them, or called joyously after the Goddess. Maeve shrank lower in her saddle, beginning to feel dizzy. This was too much. This was the stuff of stories. It was one thing having faith in life, it was another thing having that faith vilified and become knowledge…

They crossed the bridge and on the other side they were coming under an enormous archway, an entrance into the centrepiece of the city, Odin's hall. In the courtyard guards came to meet them, helping them dismount from their horses, Maeve's knees threatening to buckle beneath her as her feet touched the ground. When they tried to lead the horses away, Freya turned on them, something dangerous in her eyes.

"Leave them. I would know exactly where they are."

Then she was marching towards the entrance to the hall, gaze commanding as guards opened doors ahead of her, ran to keep up with the group. She held some considerable sway here, it seemed.

Deeper into the palace they went, gradually being followed by more and more people. By the time they reached the throne room there was a considerable swarm and as they came to stand before the high seat it seemed there was to be an audience to whatever followed.

Maeve hung back, risking a peek around Freya to look up at the throne, her mouth opening slightly. It was as though the hilt of some giant golden sword was driving it's way through the room towards the heavens, a seat at it's crux. In the seat was a broad, fair man, a winged helm nestled on his head, fist closed around a spear, red cloak spilling in rich folds over the edge of the throne beneath him. When he saw Freya he broke into a warm smile, rising to greet her, but before he could speak she cut him off, calling sharply,

"Where is Frigga, Thor?"

The smile faded and he was coming down the steps then, closing a hand on her elbow. Maeve stared up at him from the shadow of her cloak, her stomach somewhere beneath her feet. Thor.

"You have heard?" he whispered, Freya nodding.

"Leave us!" he called and the crowd began to disperse, guards helping them on their way. He steered Freya a few feet away from her entourage, ducking his head to speak with her and Maeve risked a glance around, noticing a woman lingering near a pillar, overshadowed by a hulk of a man. She was staring at Thor, unblinking, as he spoke to Freya, her chest rising and falling slowly. The dark haired woman who had travelled with them was staring too, at the blonde Asgardian in the shadows, and if looks could kill blood would be smeared across the floor now.

As Maeve watched this stand-off of glances she became aware Thor was sounding more and more agitated, his voice growing louder. Freya was trying to calm him but occasional snatches of words could be caught;

"…what foundations have you… no ambition… father…"

Eventually Freya won out and a guard was sent from the room, returning a few minutes later with an older woman, still beautiful but in a classical, refined way that came with age, dark blonde hair coiled over her shoulder, her gown a deep grey. When she entered the room Freya turned her back on Thor, striding to her and embracing her, and Maeve saw the woman from the shadows slip out of them, gliding to the Thunder God's side. She was whispering to him, guiding him back to sit in the throne, slender hands commanding him deftly to move as she wished. By the time Freya and Frigga had returned their attention to the situation in hand Thor was seated once more, the yellow haired woman at his side, languishing over one of the hilt like segments of the throne.

The air was electric and Maeve began to feel stifled by her heavy hood, wishing she was outside. Some game of politics was going on before her but she couldn't focus. The ride, the impact of the city, the sight of Thor and Frigga, plain as daylight. She could feel her legs tremoring beneath her and a bitter taste in her mouth, her heart fluttering…

As she tumbled towards the floor hands were snatching out to catch her, the handmaidens seizing her arms to hold her up. The sudden commotion broke whatever conversation was going on up at the throne and Thor himself abandoned his seat, tearing off his helm and casting the spear aside, coming to her aid. It all felt too slow as he slid powerful arms under hers, lifting her to sit on the steps, ducking his head to speak to her, the beautiful woman with the golden hair sliding from her seat, mouth twisted unpleasantly for a fraction of a second. He was pulling down her hood, asking if she was well, and she looked up into warm blue eyes that widened slowly, the blurred shape of Freya somewhere behind trying to intervene, too late.

"Maeve..?" His voice was deep and gentle, he was supporting her head and his eyes were lighting up. Dazed mind trying to fathom how he knew her name, her gaze slipped over his shoulder and Amora was glaring back at her, before a smile began to creep over her features slowly...


	5. Chapter 5

Maeve was being pulled to her feet by strong hands, warm, rough palms slipping under her hair to hold her face, tilting it upwards. Thor looked down at her, studying her carefully and as he gazed at her she could feel a shift in the throne room, all eyes on the strange reunion. Suddenly Thor broke into a grin and he was lifting her clean off the ground, drawing a squeal from her as he span her around, laughing.

"Maeve! It is you!"

He set her down again and she took a few stumbled steps back, panting slightly as she looked up at him. Her face was burning from all the gazes on it. She looked up at Freya fearfully, the Asgardian quickly crossing the room to take hold of her shoulders in a protective stance. Thor shook his head, still wearing his smile, holding a hand out to the girl.

"Do not be afraid," he said gently, "I know you do not recognise me, but I know you. I was there, when you…" He trailed off, the smile faltering for a second and he looked up at Freya, who gazed back at him levelly. "Is she…?"

"Yes," the Goddess replied simply.

"You chose her?" Thor was stepping closer again, his mother peering around the edge of the throne cautiously to watch the exchange. Maeve looked up at him warily, backing into Freya slightly. She suddenly felt very small.

"I did what I could," Freya said, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

A few feet away Amora watched the scene unfurling around the girl with growing animosity. Thor was slipping out of her grip, she could feel it, the shock of seeing the mortal shaking him free. She had to do something, reel him back. She also needed to make a statement to Freya, before she began to meddle.

As the Thunder God approached the girl, Amora closed her hand on his arm, leaning to say softly to him,

"This is Loki's mortal?" He turned to look at her and as his eyes met hers she could feel him sinking again, losing focus on what was at hand to gaze at her. He nodded slowly, silently, and she gave him a small smile as she touched her fingers to his neck.

"Do you not think that this is a family affair now then, my Lord?" she said, her voice low and cajoling. He peered at her for a moment, then turned his gaze back on Freya, jaw set. Amora took a step back, linking her hands before her waist.

"You will give her to me now, Freya," he said softly, the smile gone, hand extended out to Maeve. She craned her neck to look up at her guardian, the Goddess tightening her grip on her shoulders.

"I shall do no such thing," she replied, voice level.

"Give her to me or I shall take her by force!" Thor exploded, Maeve flinching at the sudden rage. "I am your King!"

"I bow to no one," Freya spat back. Maeve trembled, trapped between the two, Thor drawing closer, his voice low and clear;

"Give her to me, or I shall begin by killing your servants…"

Maeve looked over at the group, her breath caught in her throat. The huge man from the shadows was drawing closer to them and she could see fear in their eyes. They were trying to remain stoic for their mistress, Sif raising her shield defensively, but he was stalking between the pillars like some hulking panther, an axe almost the size of her swinging in his hand.

She heard Frigga call Thor's name, pleading with him and Freya's fingers were biting into her shoulder.

"You have gone mad, boy," she hissed. She wasn't going to relinquish. The women were looking steadily more afraid, two taking each other's hands and Maeve felt her chest tightening. She knew these women, they had cared for her, she couldn't allow this.

Twisting out of Freya's grasp she stepped forwards, looking up at Thor, whispering,

"I'll go with you."

He smiled down at her, but now it looked wicked, no mirth in his eyes. She stepped behind him, seeing the beast from the shadows retreating again, the women safe. Freya looked at her aghast for a moment, then up at Amora, the curvaceous woman smiling back sweetly. She knew. They all knew. But it didn't matter. To defy Thor would be to declare civil war.

"You may leave now, Freya," the Thunder God said, returning to his quieter demeanour. "We have no further need of you here."

"I came to see your mother," she replied calmly. Thor sank into his throne, waving a hand at Frigga.

"And so you have seen her," he said. "Now you may go."

Freya looked up at the Queen, a desperate glance between them. Frigga shook her head and with a furious curl of her lip and ruffle of feathers, the platinum haired Asgardian descended from the steps of the throne, handmaidens practically running to keep up. Sif lingered for a moment to look up at Thor accusingly, whispering,

"Who are you?" before she turned and ran after her, allegiance to him broken.

Amora slowly sank onto the massive arm of the throne, draping one arm around Thor's shoulders as he rest his forehead on a closed fist, panting slightly. Maeve felt a warm hand closing around her quivering fingers, pulling gently. She looked up into the face of Frigga, trying to steer her away as Amora whispered to Thor, kissing his ear and neck. The Queen looked down at her with gentle eyes and Maeve mouthed,

"I'm sorry…" Frigga shook her head, before her eyes darted up as Thor stood, bringing the golden spear of his father down on the floor with a resonating boom.

"Bring my brother," he called, and in the shadows the enormous man smiled before seeming to vanish into them entirely.

* * *

Loki peered up from his seat as he heard the impossible. The front of his cage was twisting, the spikes melting away until the front of the cell was wide open, like they'd never existed. He stood slowly, coming to the very edge of the cell to peer one way, then the other. All that greeted him was silence. No guards, no one rushing to stop him.

Tentatively he put one foot out of the cell, waiting for a moment before stepping out. Nothing. He walked forwards, slowly mounting the steps out of the dungeon, footfalls so light he didn't make a sound. As he neared the top he picked up the pace, wondering if he would find Frigga waiting for him, but when he broke into the clean air of the golden palace he felt someone hulking grab him. A blow across the face left him dazed and limp and he was being dragged unceremoniously, head hanging.

* * *

Maeve stood in the centre of the throne room, shaking head to foot. The woman called Amora had pulled her away from Frigga's protective hands to stand her there, removing her cloak and arranging her hair as though she was a doll. She took a step back to survey her work, tilting her head and muttering;

"Personally I cannot see the fascination."

Then she was behind the girl, playing with her hair again, running her hands down to rest on her shoulders as a door heaved open and Skurge lumbered in, a hand under each of Loki's arms. As he heaved him to his feet, shaking him awake, he grabbed hold of his chin, forcing his head so that the first thing he saw as he came to was Maeve.

Maeve. Pale and frightened and in Amora's grasp.

It had to be another trick. She was taunting him, punishing him for denying her. But as he was forced to straightened up, his wrists chained behind his back, she tried to dart forwards and Amora was seizing her arm, whispering to her, bringing her to the verge of tears. Then the golden haired beauty returned to sit beside Thor, the hunk of meat that had dragged him up released him and their eyes met, holding each others gaze for a long moment.

In that second all doubt vanished. She was there, she was real and she was at Amora's whim.

Thor broke the silence, his chin resting in his hand lazily as he spoke.

"Freya has made her an einherjar, brother. Kept her a secret for all this time."

As much as it pained him, Loki tore his gaze away from the girl, looking up at the Thunder God. These words weren't his own. He could practically see the strings as Amora pulled them.

"She was a witch on Midgard, wasn't she?" Thor continued, tilting his head. "Perhaps Freya chose her for her magical prowess."

Loki looked up at the sorceress, whispering to her warningly,

"Don't…."

"Shall we test that theory, my love?" she said, resting her head on Thor's shoulder, her eyes flickering to Loki with a malevolent smile.

She was punishing him. Skurge was rounding on Maeve, axe in hand, his dark face void of expression. As the seconds stretched, Frigga was running towards Thor, crying for him to stop, Amora sitting up to witness the sport she had created, Maeve standing resolutely, chanting softly under her breath.

Then Loki was moving, months of anger and misery fuelling him as he forced a surge of power through his chains, blowing them apart in millions of shattered pieces. He ran towards Skurge, Amora screaming as she watched her game fall apart. Whipping his arm around, a bolt of gold and blue light slammed into the soldier and he was thrown across the hall, crashing into one of the columns.

"You won't be touching her," he hissed, catching Maeve by the wrist, sprinting for freedom. Volleys of magic were being flung after him by Amora, until Frigga threw herself at the enchantress, throttling her. Loki and Maeve ran, leaving chaos in their wake, he gripping her wrist so tightly it burned, not daring to let go.

They slammed out of the palace, into the courtyard and Freya was there waiting, cats hissing as they strained against their bridles eagerly. One of the handmaidens tugged a horse over, Loki lifting Maeve into the saddle, clambering on behind her, pulling her into his chest as he wound the leather reins around his wrist.

And then they were running again, galloping into the night, into the snow, their escape a whirlwind.


	6. Chapter 6

***Winds up, lifts knee, swivels hips and curveballs chapter* Wheee!**

* * *

Frigga looked through the bars of what had been Loki's cell, Amora stood on the other side, her dark green eyes brimming with rage. The Queen lifted her head gracefully, refusing to be stared down.

"It is not going to work," she said softly. The enchantress' face split into a smile, spiteful and beautiful all at once.

"Yes, it is," she replied. "It already is. Look around you, Frigga. Where are your rescuers, your heroes, where is your husband? Asgard already belongs to Thor and I will be at his side."

"That is not Thor," Frigga said, her voice still even. "That is something of your creation. He will awaken and see you for your true nature and you will be undone."

Amora shook her head, slinking her way towards the cell, bowing her head to peer at the Queen from beneath the thick waves of her hair.

"You still do not understand, do you? I own everyone. My reach far extends your wildest imaginings, I can close my hand on thousands of minds within this very instant. No one is coming for you. No one is coming for me. You will rot here and not even your son will mourn you."

She turned to leave the dungeon, her bodyguard at her side as she climbed the steps and Frigga sank to the floor, hands folded in her lap, utterly alone.

* * *

Sif pulled Maeve down from the saddle, the girl whimpering as she landed, every muscle hurting. The shield maiden had her arm over her shoulder and before she could turn to say a word to Loki she saw Freya drag him away, pumping him for information as they went. They disappeared down some deep corridor and Maeve fell limply against Sif, swearing to herself she would never sit astride a horse for the rest of known time.

As she was helped into a bath it didn't feel real, the night a blur of fear and adrenaline. She tucked her knees up to her chest, begging Freya's handmaidens to leave her alone. She needed to process things and she couldn't when she was being fussed over like a child.

The steam rose in curls, familiar scents of lavender and sage rising with it from the water, soothing her legs and back. She ducked her hair under the water and when she rose again she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. The line between fantasy and reality had become so blurred at this point she could scarcely collect herself.

She thought back to days with Grayson, prepubescent and possessing a mind like a sponge, he weaving the stories of the Old Gods to her, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile as he talked. He'd been so animated and she thought him the wisest man she'd ever known, loving him totally.

She missed him so much it hurt like a festering wound. Sometimes she would imagine his face when he heard she was dead, when he'd buried her. Now was one of those times and she rubbed the heel of her hand on her forehead, trying to dismiss the image of his weathered old expression breaking. She had promised to not let herself get hurt and had broken it.

She wished she could call him like she used to when she'd been lonely or afraid. Standing sobbing in the phone box at 3 a.m, while he talked her down, turned her around, made her laugh.

She wouldn't see him again. He would go to the Summerlands, be a young man again and she would remain here, in limbo. She wondered what he would make of the truth, now she knew who Loki really was. If it would even matter.

Shivering and exhausted she climbed out of the bath, wrapping herself in the linen bed robe Freya's servants had left for her. Then she slipped through the main hall, snatching an abandoned cloak that had been strewn over one of the chairs and tugged it around herself. It was much too big, deep purple wool swamping her, but she needed to be outside, needed clean air and room to breathe.

She walked bare foot in the meadow, her legs feeling stronger now. The snow had stopped, leaving a thick blanket everywhere but Freya's garden and the sun was rising over the mountains, casting their long shadows over the still frozen lake. As she sat and watched the red-gold disc ascend she allowed herself to wonder if the night had in fact been real or just the dreamings of a desperate mind.

In her heart though, she knew it was. Loki had been there, running with her, his fingers closed about her wrist, running. He had held her to him in the saddle, arm wrapped around her waist tightly, tighter than it needed to be to stop her falling.

She rubbed her face, resting her jaw on her fingertips, legs pulled up to her chest. Freya had stolen him away, she didn't know where to or how long for. Perhaps to another prison cell.

The sun was climbing higher, warm rays gleaming over her skin now and she shed the cloak, a dark circle around her. She was aching with tiredness but couldn't sleep yet, not until she'd heard something. Anything.

Closing her eyes, she was almost dozing when she heard someone call;

"Maeve..?"

Head snapping up, she turned to look over her shoulder and Loki was there, a few feet away, dark shape leaping out against the snow. She stood slowly, feeling goose bumps ripple over her skin. He was simply looking at her, not coming any closer, his clear green eyes travelling over her, inspecting her. She remembered that look. She'd seen it many times when they first met, as though he was trying to see through her skin, understand her.

Finally he met her eyes and she smiled at him softly.

"Here I am," she said, barely audible. He stared for a moment more and then broke into a long, swift stride. As he reached her he wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hand slipping into her hair, fingers on the nape of her neck, and he pulled her tight into his chest, embracing her for all he was worth. Maeve fell against him, hands on his chest, clutching at the soft leather, her eyes closed. She felt his lips on her brow briefly, his voice strained as he whispered,

"I knew. I knew you were here…"

She looked up at him slowly, bringing her fingers up to rest on his jaw, remembering their last encounter. Huddled beneath the stones, he bearing his soul to her, confessions all laid out. She'd never got the chance to respond.

"There's something I've been waiting to tell you for a long time," said softly, tracing her fingertips down to his neck. He looked back at her unblinking, listening intently. "I wanted you to know that I forgive you…"

He broke into a wounded smile, eyes shining and she returned it, then he kissed her, clutching her to his chest, feeling her warm and soft and real in his arms. Loki kissed her as he had never done before in his life, pouring himself into her, feeling her yield to him. She tasted the same, she felt the same, she was intact and safe here and he had found her. He sank to his knees, pulling her with him, carefully slipping his hand inside the neckline of her robe, palm on her chest, feeling a beating heart. Then he was laying her down, kissing her neck, her collar bones, disappearing in the lengths of the meadow.

* * *

Amora glided her way into Odin's chambers, standing at the foot of his bed, Skurge watching over the door. There was no need really, at this point she could bend every guard to her will with a tilt of her head and a swirl of her fingers, small spells that had swiftly brought the All Father's house to it's knees. The men wanted her, the women feared her, Thor brought her into his bedchamber each night with needy hands. She was well on her way to having everything she wanted.

Slowly she clamoured onto the King's bed, straddling his legs, breaking the fine shell of light. She leaned down over him, nose almost touching his, cooing to him softly;

"Father, my All Father, what do you dream? Do you see your wife, your sons? Have they not been a disappointment to you? Traitors, cowards, your golden boy little more than a puddle at my feet. It is almost time now, I can feel him bending to me. A little longer and no one will even recall the name Frigga."

She swung her leg over, falling down onto the pillows beside him, fingers smoothing over his beard.

"I just need one more thing from you, then I'll assure you sink into sleep forever. You will never have to wake and learn what your precious family has done."

When she lifted her hand away strands of platinum light connected her fingertips to his face. She gave him her most beautiful smile, head propped in her hand, elbow sinking into the cushions.

"There we are. It's not so hard, is it?"

* * *

Maeve lay with her head on Loki's shoulder, the cloak spread over them like a blanket, fingers laced through his. Snow was falling again, a fine mist that never quite reached them. He pulled her closer to keep her warm, still reassuring himself she was truly there, fingertips moving over the ivy leaves on her shoulder. The sight of them was so familiar, comforting. She glanced up at him, then pressed her lips to his jaw gently, leaving a warm spot. Brushing her hair behind her ear he gazed down at her, palm resting on her neck.

"What happens now?" she said softly, her sweet face serious.

"What do you mean?" he asked, smiling up at her slightly. His face changed so much when he smiled. It still caught her off guard.

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but the whole of Asgard appears to be going to pot," she replied, shifting to prop herself up on her elbows and peer down at him. The smile faded.

"I have, as it happens," he replied, letting out a low sigh. He sat up, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Freya will likely declare war on the throne before the day is out, knowing her. Things will become very ugly. I should know…"

"And what do we do?" Maeve asked, laying her hand over his. Loki's eyes flickered over her face, taking in every lovely detail, frowning slightly.

"We could leave?" he said in a low voice. "There are paths off this world no one knows about, we could be gone before anyone knew…"

Maeve arched an eyebrow, sitting up a little straighter.

"You'd abandon your people?"

"They are not my people," Loki said. "You must know that?" He lifted his arm into the snow flurry above and when he brought it back down to show her his skin was a rich blue. She closed her fingers over his arm, the colour fading away again at her touch.

"I do, yes," she breathed, "I know you were born in Jotunheim. I read the stories since I was old enough to hold the books. But Loki, for all that time, Asgard was your home. What about Frigga?"

She'd struck a nerve. Loki's frown deepened and he sank forwards, resting his forehead on hers, fingers running down her bare arms, taking her hands.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered, closing his eyes. "I have only just found you. If anything were to happen… I will not lose you again, Maeve…"

He felt her kiss him, gentle and loving, her voice hushed when she broke away;

"I don't have those sorts of answers. But I've heard of three people who do…"


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you again for the kind reviews guys, really glad people are enjoying it. I'm looking for a Maeve/Loki picture if anyone is feeling charitable enough to draw one? *puppy eyes***

* * *

Loki pulled Maeve's hood up for her, cupping her face in his hands.

"We do not have to do this," he said softly, bowing his head to brush his cheek over hers. "We could still go." She tipped her head to kiss his temple and when he looked her in the eyes he had her silent answer. Letting out a low sigh, he pulled her in close to his chest.

"Hold onto me," he said, winding his arms around her waist tightly. "This will feel a little strange." She gripped his shoulders, tucking her head under his chin, her eyes squeezed close. She felt the ground beneath her feet pitch, stomach lurching, and to anyone who witnessed it, they would see the pair twist into light, vanishing in moments, the only evidence the meadow grass they were stood in swaying slightly.

When she felt solid ground beneath her feet again she opened her eyes cautiously, peering up at Loki. His appearance had changed during the teleport, now dressed in full armour. A gleaming helm shadowed his sharp features, huge horns arching from it and a rich green cloak was wrapped around them both. He was looking over her head and Maeve turned slowly, following his gaze, her mouth falling open.

They were on a platform in a domed chamber carved out of glossy black stone, the walls embedded with tainted silver which marked the path of Yggdrasil. Among the cosmic branches were discs denoting the nine worlds, stars and moons spreading between them and strung between it all were endless gossamer threads. They were webbed all over the chamber, taut and gleaming as they spiralled to the centre.

In the very middle of the platform were three hunkered figures, swathed in ratted grey cloaks, their faces hidden, the threads all culminating with them. They were wrapped around theur arms, their waists, their gnarled fingers, endlessly circling them.

Loki slowly released Maeve's waist, saying to her in a low voice,

"Wait here," before he stepped towards the figures. As he approached them they spoke in one voice, echoing around the chamber;

"Laufeyson. We know why you are here."

Loki paused, frowning at the three.

"Then you have seen?" he said.

"Many things. Asgard is hurtling towards ruin."

"Is there anything that could be done?"

Three hoods turned towards him, crimson eyes gleaming out from faceless shadows.

"We see only death."

Loki glanced back at Maeve, hesitation in hisface. She took a step forwards, nodding to him encouragingly, when the Norns spoke again;

"Bring us the female."

The Asgardian's attention snapped back, voice sharp.

"No."

One of the figures rose up, dust spilling from her cloak. She held out an ancient hand, fingers beckoning.

"Maeve Connor. We see your guardian."

Maeve swallowed, stepping forwards, bare feet stinging from the cold stone floor. Loki was hissing for her to stop but she lay her white hand in the woman's veined one. The Norn turned her palm over so it was facing upwards, speaking alone now.

"We see death around you. Your guardian saw it too."

She lay one of the strands in the girl's hand, short and delicate, one end tied in a loop. Maeve looked down at it wordlessly. It wasn't connected to the wall.

"Is this mine?" she whispered.

"It was cut."

Maeve carefully picked the thread up between her fingers, staring at the knotted end. Her exsistance now, an endless cycle, never changing. Eyes flickering to the pinpoints of red beneath the hood, she said,

"You spoke of my guardian. Where is his?"

"Maeve, no," Loki breathed, looking down at her imploringly. She met his gaze, shaking her head.

"I need to see," she said softly, a hint of desperation in her voice. Turning back, she saw the Norn holding up another fine thread, this one webbing between her fingers, the dangling end frayed. Peering at it carefully she saw it was still attached to the wall, rooted in the disc representing Earth.

"He's still alive?" she asked, looking up into the dark hood.

"Yes. Do you want to see?" The girl swallowed, then nodded slowly.

"Maeve…" Loki lay his hand on her arm.

"Touch it," the hag said, the words little more than a hiss. Maeve glanced up at Loki, then tentatively lay one fingertip on the thread.

The next thing she knew she felt as if all the air was being sucked out of her body and when she breathed in again she found herself stood in a dim room, worn green carpet beneath her feet. There was a coffee table strewn with official looking papers, more scattered to the floor and in a corner stood a beaten up armchair, Grayson sunk into it. A golden Labrador was curled at his feet, beside the chair an oxygen canister, tubes leading up to the old man's face and taped under his nose. He was staring blankly out of a murky window, his face bearing more lines than she could remember and faintly blue.

Maeve took a careful step forwards and he looked up then, straight at her, bleary eyes widening.

"Baby girl…"

Maeve felt bile rising in her throat. He could see her.

She walked forwards slowly, sinking to kneel besides his chair, hesitating a moment before touching her fingers to his. He looked up at her, tears welling in his weary eyes.

"Hey, Poppa," she whispered, giving his hand a squeeze. It felt cold and clammy.

"Am I dead?" he croaked. Maeve shook her head quickly.

"But I buried you. You're in the ground…" She could hear fear in his voice, making her chest hurt.

"I know," she whispered. "I… I'm just stopping by." He pulled his hand away from hers, touching her cheek and shaking his head.

"You look beautiful," he murmured.

"I missed you," the girl breathed, closing her hand over his. She wanted to hold onto him, to pull him back with her and see him strong and vital again.

"I ain't got much time, baby," he said hoarsely. "Me and Molly, we're both real tired." Maeve's eyes flickered down to the dog, wheezing at his feet, and nodded slightly.

"It'll be ok," she replied in a whisper. "It doesn't hurt. It's sort of like a big dream."

"I thought maybe you were comin' to get me…"

"Not yet, Poppa." She leant in, kissing his forehead tenderly. "But I'll be waiting, I promise." It wasn't entirely a lie. She would wait and he would pass her by and be born again.

"Them S.H.I.E.L.D, they never would tell me what happened… Was it Loki?" His face looked more lucid now.

"No, Poppa. If I told you the truth you wouldn't believe me," she said softly. "It was just something bad that won't happen to anybody again."

He gazed up at her tearfully and she carefully leant in to hug him, head on his chest, wary of the tubing.

"It's alright. You rest now. Don't worry about me anymore." She could feel something tugging in her, summoning her back. She defied it until she felt Grayon's chest rising and falling slowly, asleep, whispering to him;

"Goodbye, Poppa," before she gave in. Another forced exhale and she was stood before the Norn once more, hand still clasped around the thread. She let go hurriedly, taking a step back. The crimson eyes beneath the hood followed her.

"You see," the voice in the shadows said. Maeve nodded slowly, her stomach in knots, swallowing back tears. The hooded figure knelt with the others once more, Grayson's thread concealed amongst the others. Loki closed a hand on her elbow, looking down at her with concern. She gave him a wan smile and the Norns spoke in unison again;

"The female has the courage to know the truth. Do you, Laufeyson? You did not come here of your own accord, but hers."

Loki hesitated, his fingers tightening on Maeve's arm. He looked into her bright eyes, she returning the gaze levelly. Face grim, he kept his eyes on hers as he said,

"Tell me."

A sigh escaped the three, echoing around the chamber.

"We see only death. You are it's harbinger. You will bring about the end of all things, all lives. You are the Twilight of the Gods, Loki Laufeyson."

Loki tore his hand away from Maeve's arm, wheeling to look at the Norns.

"What?" he whispered, face bleaching.

"Volla saw. Odin saw. You are the progenitor of the Ragnarok, the death of all realms. It is your fate."

Maeve stiffened, her breath caught in her throat. She knew those stories, of three years of winter, Earth being drowned by the Midgard serpent, the whole pantheon of old Norse Gods being killed in battle. And Loki had been at the centre of it all. They had just been stories, but now… He was real, stood before her…

"How?" he said in a chilling voice.

"You will kill a man. He will be the most beautiful and beloved of all men and will die by your hand."

Loki was sinking to his knees, hands on the floor to hold himself up. Maeve ran to his side, falling beside him. She lay her hands on his face, lifting it to look him in the eye, seeing tears spill down his cheeks. He was looking straight through her, spiralling downwards.

"Listen to me," she whispered urgently, "you have a choice. You don't have to be who they say, you have a choice, Loki…"

He wasn't listening to her, it was as though he couldn't hear her. She swivelled to look at the Norns, pulling down her hood as she appealed to them.

"Tell him, please! It doesn't have to be that way, does it?"

"All things are in his hands. If the man dies, it cannot be undone."

"It's Balder, isn't it?" she whispered. "That's his name?"

"Yes."

Maeve looked back at Loki, leaning in to speak to him softly.

"You see? If Balder lives, none of it will ever happen. You have a choice, Loki…"

He looked up at her slowly, green eyes full of pain.

"Did you know..?" he said, barely audible.

"I… they were just stories…"

Loki pulled her hands away, leaning away from her.

"Loki…" she whispered. But he was getting to his feet, not looking at her as he paced around the Norns.

"Balder. I do not know any man by this name," he said as he walked.

"You will, in time," came the echoing reply.

"Then what of Amora?" he asked, pausing.

"She will fall. Asgard will come to ruin by your hands, not hers."

Maeve got to her feet, Loki striding back to her and taking her arms firmly.

"I have heard enough," he said and without warning he teleported them out, landing back in Freya's meadow. It was dark now and as they landed he let her go, striding away swiftly. She ran after him, casting off the cumbersome cloak.

"Loki!" she cried, "Loki, Stop, please!"

He wheeled on her, back in his plain robes, something desperate in his expression.

"You knew," he said as he looked down at her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"They were just stories, when I was a child. I didn't think…" Maeve lay her hands on his chest, looking up at him. "You have to believe me, please, it never even crossed my mind…" Loki pulled her hands away, holding onto them tightly.

"Do you love me still, knowing what you do?" he said sharply.

"Of course I do," she whispered. "I don't see an evil man before me. I don't believe you would choose to do what the Norns said. And you do have a choice, Loki…"

He brushed a hand over her hair, bowing his head with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm so sorry, Maeve…" She wound her arms round his shoulders, pressing her lips to his neck and he pulled her tighter to him, resting his cheek on her crown.

"I am going to go join Freya when she rallies against Amora," he breathed into her hair. "She brought you back to me. I owe her a great deal. And she has my mother…"

"We'll get her back," Maeve said, resting her forehead on his neck.

"I think I miss the desert," he said with a wry smile. "Things were certainly simpler there…"


	8. Chapter 8

**Erch, sorry for the sluggish update guys. I'm suffering really badly with writers block at the moment and I think it shows in this chapter. Not sure how to get out of it. Hopefully if I push myself a bit I can come up with a chapter that sucks less next :S**

Amora stood on the Bifrost, shivering with pleasure at the mere prospect of what she was about to do.

"Skurge, would you be a darling and remove my cloak?" she said silkily. The mammoth man did as she asked with surprisingly delicate fingers, allowing himself a moment to drink in the sight of her bare shoulders, the way her golden hair fell down her back. She didn't need any magic to hold him to her. He had loved her from the moment he first laid eyes on her. Truly loved her. Even her frustrated outbursts, her long periods of petulance. In fact, he thought she was her loveliest then, when the pretences were dropped and he could see her true self.

He knew she used his affections for her. It did not matter. He would continue to love her till the day he died.

Amora walked along the rainbow bridge slowly, almost lazily, peering about herself.

"Beautiful," she said softly. "Such a pity about the observatory. Shall we see what can be done, my sweet?" She glanced back over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. He nodded once, giving her the approval she was looking for. The smile widened and the woman turned back, crouching to lay one palm on the crystalline bridge.

"Come along then, Odin, let us see what you are made of," she whispered. Closing her eyes, she flexed her fingers and felt the first tingle of warmth.

Far above, streams of golden light began to rise from the sleeping All Father, soaring out through the night sky to sink into the enchantress, enforcing her spell. She could feel the Gatekeeper watching her, golden eyes staring from miles away as the bridge began to restore, growing like a sprouting vine. It was stretching out into the void, vibrating with magic, the golden sphere of the observatory swirling into being, climbing into creation around him and sweeping over his head.

Amora forced power into the bridge, Odin convulsing in his chamber as she drained him. Heimdall was moving towards her, slamming along the recovering Bifrost. Skurge stood over her protectively, axe handle resting in both hands. She was struggling containing the spell now, the intensity making her whimper. But it was almost done, the bridge was humming beneath them. As the observatory whirled and shunted into place she fell forwards with a cry, the lights around her fading. Skurge leant over to try and pick her up but she whispered,

"Leave me… Go…."

He arched an eyebrow, but did as she said, drawing away from her to lurk at the opening of the bridge, concealed behind a pillar.

When Heimdall drew up to her, he knelt before her, pulling her up to her knees. She fell onto him, letting out a low moan.

"Oh, thank you, thank you," she breathed. "I thought I might have died here, thank you…"

He looked down at her in surprise, brushing her thick hair away from her face.

"You did this…" he said in his deep, rich voice.

"I wanted to help," she said, nestling into his chest. "Restore Asgard to some of it's former glory." She looked up at him with dark eyes as he cradled her in the crook of his arm, smiling softly at him. She needed to tread carefully now. Heimdall was powerful and intelligent. He would likely see through her like a pane of glass if she didn't do things right.

"I do not know you. I know of everyone, but not you…"

He was suspicious. She had to act fast. Go straight to the hilt…

She gripped his shoulders, pulling herself up, whispering in his ear,

"My name is Amora," before pressing her lips to his, hard. No use in wasting time. She wound her tongue into his mouth as he fought against her, feeling the last residues of Odin's power making her spell so much stronger. He was slumping, relinquishing.

Within seconds she had him, total control. When she pulled away he was looking down at her as though she was some divine being. She sat up, kissing his nose with a low laugh.

"There we go. Now we are introduced properly," she cooed. "Now, you have your gateway returned to you. And I would very much like to have priority over that gateway. Do we understand one another, Heimdall?"

"I am at your command, Lady Amora," he rumbled.

"I know you are," she beamed.

* * *

Thor looked down at Frigga in her cell, resting his hands on the bars. She wouldn't look at him.

"You attacked the woman I love," he said softly. "Why, Mother?"

She shook her head with a soft laugh.

"You are so blind. You would condemn your mother and your father for that woman? She is using you, Thor. She does not love you and you do not love her..."

"Do not speak of her in such a way!" he roared, slamming his fists on the bars.

"You have never raised your voice to me before she came here, do you realise that, Thor?" Frigga said calmly.

"I had come here to release you. But clearly you have fallen into insanity," he said, actually sounding disappointed in her. "Once Loki and the mortal are recovered, I will be taking her as my bride, mother. Asgard will be safe under our rule."

She looked up at him, aghast.

"I'm sorry that you cannot see the truth in all of this, Mother. I had hoped you and Amora would be friends…"

"Never," she hissed.

* * *

Maeve sat outside Freya's throne room, legs crossed, chin resting in her palm. Loki had disappeared into there over an hour ago. She sat waiting patiently for them to be finished, occasionally getting curious glances from servants as they passed her. She would smile back to them with tight lips, tapping her fingertips on her cheek idly.

Eventually she got to her feet, letting out a frustrated huff. Pacing up and down the corridor she cast off her moccasins, feeling better with bare feet. Old habits died hard. She drifted further away from the hall, into the dark corridors, abandoning her shoes as she went. Eventually she found her way outside, sitting on the steps up descending from the building. She could see some of the other einherjar out in the fields, sparring. Weapons were clashing, shields vibrating as they slammed into one another. She found herself smiling slightly. She'd never so much as brandished a letter opener while playing pirates…

Eventually Loki appeared, sitting beside her, his hands clasped between his knees. She looked up at his serious profile, resting a careful hand on his leg.

"What?" she asked softly.

"Thor sent riders here while we were with the Norns… They intend to storm Folkvangr if I am not returned to him. And you as well…" He looked over at her, a dark frown on his face.

"Me?" Maeve said, arching her eyebrows.

"I suspect Amora would intend to use you as leverage against me," he muttered, laying a hand over hers. She gave him a wan smile, leaning in closer as she spoke with him, her voice soft;

"I suppose I could take that as a compliment?"

He smiled in return, winding his fingers through hers.

"I still do not understand you, Maeve," he said in a low voice.

As he leant in to kiss her Sif watched from the shadows of the entrance to the hall, Freya pacing to her side.

"I cannot fathom it," the shield maiden said as the couple embraced.

"Oh?" Freya asked.

"How she could… Does she even know who he truly is?"

"Yes," the Goddess replied. "I suspect more than most."

"I could never…."

"You mean to tell me in all the time you knew Loki, before his fall, you never saw one good thing in him?" Freya looked down at her steadily, Sif shrinking slightly and gazing back at the pair. Loki was brushing the girl's cheek tenderly, she looking at him with adoration. Shaking her head she walked away, Freya watching the two for a moment longer before turning inside herself.

Out in the evening air Loki took Maeve's hand, lifting it up to look at her fingers.

"Do you still practice magic?" he asked,

"No," she said. "There didn't seem much point…"

"What do you mean?"

Maeve shrugged, breaking his gaze to look around herself. Watching her, Loki understood and pulled her to her feet, holding her waist to steer her. He took her inside, down to her room, a narrow space with a low ceiling and bed of furs made up on the floor. Settling her down he knelt before her, looking at her carefully.

"It is important that you are able to defend yourself," he said softly. "Things are escalating. If Amora chooses to bring the fight to Folkvangr, you must be ready." He took hold of both her hands with a weak smile.

"I never did have chance to tell you… the spell you worked for me, it saved my life, Maeve. You have potential. We do not have much time, but I will show you what I can in the hopes it will protect you…"

He sat up with her all night, teaching her, trying to free her from the constraints of possibility she had laid upon herself back on Earth. Here in Asgard it was different. She was not a human anymore, this was not a world where normal physics applied. Magic did not need rites and rituals here to weave it. Just determination and a little natural talent.

By the time the sun was rising Maeve was able to conjure a small flame in her palm, that would curl around her fingers in a serpentine fashion, seeming almost alive. As she struggled to keep it alive, her hand shaking from the sheer willpower, her vision blurred, head feeling as though it were about to explode. Loki closed his hand over hers, forcing it into a fist to snuff out the spell, catching her as she pitched forwards. She rest her head on his chest, panting slightly, feeling his cool fingers on her neck. She was burning all over, feeling as though more flames were creeping under her skin, blistering her from the inside out. When she whispered this to Loki he hurriedly stripped her bare, lowering her down onto the furs before tearing off his own robes and laying beside her, his chest to her back. She could feel soothing cold emanating from him, relieving her. When she tried to look back over her shoulder at him she felt his hand on her cheek, stopping her.

"Don't," he whispered.

"Alright…" she replied softly.

Gradually their breathing fell into rhythm and when Maeve began to shiver Loki pulled a fur up to cover her, leaning over to brush his lips on her temple.

"Can I look now?" she asked, curling her fingers in the deep black down.

"Yes."

She rolled onto her back, gazing up at him. He looked his normal self, clear green eyes meeting hers levelly. But she suspected what he'd done.

"Thank you," she said gently.

"I may have pushed you too far," he muttered, balancing his fingertips on her collarbone.

"It's alright. I know you're just trying to help." He gave her a dark look, a lock of raven hair slipping forwards over his face.

"Freya will amass her forces within days. I begin to wonder if my presence would make any difference or no…"

"Because of what the Norns said?"

He nodded once.

"Have you considered this may be the first part of you making a better choice? A chance to do what's right and turn your back on their predictions for you?"

Loki sighed, laying to rest his head on her chest, feeing her fingers brushing through his hair.

"It'll be alright," she whispered. "I swear to you it will."

He closed his eyes, surprised to find his thoughts drifting to Odin. If he would only rise then all of this could be undone. He could take Maeve and run.


	9. Chapter 9

**Gah, sorry guys! Writer's block had me in the worst grip imaginable, I've been absolutely agonizing, but (touch wood) I think I've got it beat. I'm sorry for dilly dallying so long, hopefully within the next few days I can get this finished. In the meantime I'll go watch Thor loads to keep the creative juices up...**

Maeve sat up, looking down at Loki's sleeping form, pulling one of the furs up over her chest. Even in sleep she could see he was affected by all that had happened, fingers curled into tight fists, frowning in his dreams. She leant over to kiss his brow, smiling softly when she saw a fine silver chain about his neck, triple moon symbol dangling from it. She remembered the day she had given it to him, how he'd looked down at her mystified as she'd clasped it for him. It had been her mother's once. She felt a swirl of warmth as she saw he still wore it.

Pulling a navy blue dress on over her head, she brushed a hand over Loki's hair, tugging the furs up to cover him. She had made a decision as he slept. Thor wanted them returned, as did Amora. Perhaps if they got their way, at least in part, they could be halted.

Maeve leant over, kissing Loki's cheek and whispering;

"I love you. Don't worry," before she carefully got to her feet, silently leaving the room. Outside she ran down the corridor, grabbing one of Freya's handmaidens and whispering to her rapidly. After a few moments she lead her through the halls to a wooden door, then left her with a half curtsey. Maeve knocked, her voice hushed as she called,

"Sif? Sif…"

The door opened and the dark haired shield maiden looked down at her levelly, face stern.

"It is Sif, isn't it?" the girl asked, voice nervous.

"Yes."

"I'm Maeve."

"I know."

"Could… Could I come in for a moment?"

The Asgardian woman regarded her coolly for a moment, then stepped aside to let her in. Maeve stood beside the low fireplace in the room, roping her hands in her skirts.

"I was wondering if you would help me?" she said softly.

"Why?" Sif asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Because if we don't do something, Thor is going to attack Folkvangr. A full scale war could be on our hands within day," Maeve replied. The other woman stared at her, then exhaled slowly. She paced around the room slowly, shaking her head.

"You understand I find it every difficult to trust anything that you say to me," she said as she walked. "Your feelings for Loki-"

"This isn't about Loki!" Maeve exploded. "This is so much bigger than you or me or stupid, petty feelings. Something very bad is going to happen to lots of people if something isn't done! I need your help, please…"

She looked up at Sif, dark eyes gazing back at her in surprise. Eventually she said slowly,

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need a guide…"

* * *

Loki woke to find himself alone. Rolling over he reached out, eyes still closed, but his hand closed only on soft black fur where Maeve should have been. He sat up, looking around himself. Her clothes and shoes were gone. Dressing swiftly, he opened the door to find a servant girl stood outside, her face nervous.

"She said not to worry," she mumbled quickly. "Or to follow…"

"Where is she?" Loki hissed. "Tell me!"

The girl gaped wordlessly, shrinking before him. He leered over her, his voice soft.

"Where. Is. She?"

* * *

Freya stood calmly as Loki burst into her hall, polishing a sword with a length of silk. He marched over to her, chest heaving and she raised a finger to her lips. He waited in silence for a few moments before she finally turned to look at him.

"Two horses were taken from the stables earlier this morning. Sif is gone as well as the child," she said softly. "It does not take a mastermind to know where they have gone."

"Why would she do this?"

Freya turned her ethereal blue eyes on him, the silk pausing in it's tracks along the blade. Loki felt his chest tighten under her gaze.

"I am going after her," he said turning on his heel.

"No you are not," Freya replied. Loki stopped sharply, gritting his teeth. "The Valkyrie are coming. We will have Maeve returned but not through rash actions. Fight with us, Loki. Help us take back Asgard from that witch…"

He turned to look up at the Goddess, eyes narrowed, his voice dangerous.

"Fine. But just know, if anything happens to her, I will hold you personally responsible."

* * *

Maeve swivelled in her saddle to look at Sif, her lip slightly blue from the cold. They were paused on the bridge into Odin's hall, the statues towering over them forebodingly. The girl got down from her horse, back and thighs burning. Sif peered down at her, holding out a hand to take her reins from her. She pulled the smaller horse closer to her own, frowning down at the other woman.

"Are you sure that you wish to do this?" the shield maiden said. Maeve nodded, pulling the hood of her cloak up.

"Very," she replied. "Amora's not going to stop until she gets what she wants. Maybe having me back as her prisoner will slow her down. Thank you for bringing me here…"

"I hope you are right," Sif said. "She is a dangerous woman, Maeve."

"I know." Maeve shivered, looking up at the palace with large eyes. "I suppose I should go hand myself in.."

"We will come for you, I swear it."

"I'd appreciate that," Maeve said with a nervous laugh. She turned towards the hall, hesitantly beginning to walk along the bridge, her heart fluttering in her chest. Sif watched her for a few moments before wheeling her horse around, galloping outwards from the city before she was seized as well.

* * *

Frigga rose to her feet as she heard struggling from above, someone squealing at the top of the steps. Drawing cautiously up to the bars of her cell, her mouth opened slightly as two guards came into view, a small, thrashing thing in their arms. As they ripped back the dark blue hood that shadowed their face, Maeve was revelaed, her freckled face pale and fearful. She spat a few vicious swearwords as one of the guards gripped her tightly around the waist whilst the other opened Frigga's cell and they threw the girl forwards, her face slapping on the ground.

"Some company for you," the burlier of the two man said with a laugh, before the pikes swirled into place. Maeve lay curled in a heap, listening to the sounds of the guards parting footsteps. Slowly she became aware of a warm hand on the back of her neck, another closed round her upper arm.

"Here. Come along, up you come." Maeve drew her gaze up as she was pulled to her knees, looking into Frigga's warm face. The woman smiled down at her, gently brushing the cheek that was still smarting and scarlet from it's contact with the floor. She found herself feeling ashamed as Frigga smoothed her hair away from her face and tilted her head to peer at her.

"They found you then," the Queen said softly, her voice unbearably woeful.

"Not as such," Maeve replied. "I came back on my own. Admittedly, I may not have thought this through. My Lady." She added the title as an afterthought, unsure of what to refer to her as.

"And Loki?"

"He's safe. Hopefully he doesn't know I'm here yet." Maeve awkwardly plucked at one of the fine braids in her hair, too timid to look Frigga directly in the eye.

"He spoke of you often," Frigga said with a warm smile. Maeve peered up at her through wisps of her hair. "I admit, this is not how I had envisioned our first conversation…"

"Honestly, I never thought this far ahead…" The younger girl blushed a pale pink and the Queen tucked a finger under her chin, lifting her gaze.

"I think you were good for him. I saw more of my son in him again when he returned from Midgard. I should have liked to have met you in different circumstances." Maeve gave her a cautious smile, taking her hand and whispering to her;

"It'll be alright. I'm sure Freya has a plan."

* * *

Frigga sat on the bench, quietly stroking Maeve's hair. The girl had fallen asleep with her head in her lap a little over an hour ago, clinging to the fabric of her skirts. She was very frightened, that much was evident. When the Queen heard the voice, she closed a protective hand around Maeve's arm before looking up.

"Hello again, Frigga," Amora cooed through the bars. "I was told we had a visitor."

"She is not of any use to you, Amora," Frigga muttered, glaring at the golden haired woman.

"Oh I disagree," the enchantress said. She lay her palms on the bars, causing them to melt away. "Wakey wakey, Maeve…"

The girl stirred, sitting up and looking around herself with glassy eyes. When she saw Amora she shrank against Frigga momentarily before mentally chiding herself for being a coward and getting to her feet. The stunning woman slunk forwards, looking down at her with her smouldering green eyes.

"I understand you gave yourself up? To think they left you in this grot of a cell. This will not do," she said, each word smooth as caramel. "Come now, I would not dream of leaving you with such… putrescence." Amora gave Frigga a spiteful look, then grabbed Maeve firmly under her arm, causing the girl to wince in pain. She looked over at the Queen fearfully for a moment, but there was nothing she could do. She simply allowed herself to be led out of the cell, struggling to keep up with the blonde woman's purposeful strides as she looked back over her shoulder at Frigga, watching her sink back to her knees on the frigid stone floor.


	10. Chapter 10

***Headbutts desk* Worst. Writer's block. Ever. Sucks. So hard.**

* * *

Maeve stood in the centre of an ostentatious chamber covered with gold silk drapes and cushions, furniture of rainbow crystal, a bed spread with sheets of plush amber velvet and in the very centre of the room an ornate vanity table with a mirror six feet high made of the clearest silver crystal. At the far side there was a balcony with transparent silk curtains billowing in the night breeze. It was the perfect chamber for Amora, who paced around her now; beautiful to the point where it was vulgar, obscene even.

Amora paused, plucking one of the braids in Maeve's hair and tugging on it, wrinkling her perfect nose.

"Ratty things. Honestly, I cannot fathom what a man like Loki sees in a mouse like you," she said, stepping around to the front. "Take off your clothes."

Maeve's mouth fell open as she stared at Amora.

"What..?"

"Take off your clothes. Let us see what we have to work with, hm?"

Maeve's hands closed defensively round her skirt, shaking her head a fraction. The blonde woman turned to look at her, her emerald eyes sharp and cold.

"Do as you are told or I shall have to ask my friend to assist," she said, languidly raising one hand to point out at the balcony. Through the pale curtains the young girl could see the hulking shadow of a man, waiting patiently, statuesque as he balanced the shaft of an axe between two hands. She knew that silhouette, it was the same one that had stalked Freya's envoy when Amora hadn't been getting her way…

Shivering with fear and shame, Maeve began to undo the cord laces of her gown, pushing it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Standing naked before Amora, she felt those green eyes roaming over her body critically taking note of every detail, every perceptible flaw, no matter how tiny. She saw a cruel smile twitching at the corner of the enchantress' mouth as she looked at her, her perfect head tilted at such an angle it caught the light to beautifully illuminate her face.

"Skinny. I can almost count your ribs. And all that ink in your skin. You are more like a boy than a woman," she said, her tone mocking. "If you are to be my lady in waiting we shall have to make you presentable. I cannot have you looking like this, it would be shameful."

Maeve risked a glance up through her hair at the Enchantress, mouth tightening. She wanted to slap that smooth, spoilt face and scream that she would never be her servant, but she couldn't. Amora had to be indulged, at least for this moment.

"I think a good wash is in order first of all," the blond haired woman said, beginning to undo one of the girl's braids with rough, pulling fingers.

* * *

Brunnhilde stood with her arms folded over her breastplate, cloak of blue velvet and fur swaying at her heels. She looked at Freya with serious eyes, her expression stony, her fellow soldiers lurking behind her and whispering to one another.

"You cannot be serious, my Lady?" the Valkyrie said in a smoky voice, one fine eyebrow arched.

"Deadly," Freya replied. The Goddess was tending to her armour, moulded leather pieces laid out on a table before her. She was treating each piece with wax to harden them, not looking up from the task in her hand.

"But it is declaring war on the Throne, it is treason! At the very best we shall be cast out into the abyss as our punishment. And at the worst… Well, Hela reserves a special place…" Brunnhilde shook her head, clutching her helm in the crook of her arm tightly. "It is madness, Freya."

"No, madness is what is being allowed to occur in Odin's hall at this very moment," the Goddess said calmly. "If we do not take the fight to Thor and the witch then the Allfather will soon die and Asgard with him. Amora has restored the Bifrost now, too. Do you think she will stop at one realm?"

Brunnhilde exhaled slowly through her nose. She knew Freya was right. She had served her for thousands of years now, her judgement was impeccable. Crossing one fist over her chest, she inclined her head.

"We are at your service, my Lady."

* * *

Maeve stood before Thor filled with self disgust, Amora clucking over her proudly. Her skin burned where she had been scrubbed roughly by chambermaids until she was raw and pink, eyes still smarting from carelessly sloshed soap as they tore combs through her wet hair while she stood in a scalding tub of water, the enchantress overseeing all with a self-satisfied grin.

She had become a toy for the Asgardian woman, something to dress up and down and flaunt to others. Amora had personally laced her into the several stiff and heavy layers of the gold lace and damask dress she was struggling to breathe in now, the sheer weight of it hurting her back and shoulders. Her hair, ferociously brushed free of braids and beads, was now artfully pinned half up and allowed to coil in one gleaming fat curl over her shoulder, resting on her uplift bosom. Adorned with glittering gems and chains, she felt utterly vulgar, and as Amora had proudly led her to the throne room, she could feel hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

Thor rose from his seat slowly, approaching Maeve and taking her hands, giving her a breathtaking smile. She shrank under his gaze, trying to twitch her fingers away from his. The smile was unwavering though and he nodded to Amora in approval as he stepped around Maeve, laying a hand on the small of the girl's back.

"She looks beautiful. Maeve, I am so glad that you returned to us," he said, pressing an almost paternal kiss on her temple that made her skin crawl. "The sooner Loki follows the sooner we can be a family, hm?"

"We?" Maeve whispered, glancing at Amora, who looked back at her levelly.

"Of course. He is my brother. You do not think I would harm him, do you?" Thor said, tugging her to sit beside him on the steps up to the throne.

"I don't know you," the girl said softly, "I don't know what you will do…" The thunder God shook his head, wrapping his arm around her back.

"You needn't be afraid of me," he said.

"Really?" Maeve asked, looking up at Amora. Thor followed her gaze and his warm smile faltered.

"Look at me, Maeve," he said. She turned back to him, feeling Amora's gaze still burning into her. "The last thing I wish is for any harm to you or Loki. You are my family now."

"You put your mother in a cell," Maeve whispered. "Forgive me if I don't hold much stock in your definition of family…"

Thor's eyes flickered for a moment and she felt the severity of Amora's gaze increase, her cheeks growing

warm.

"It is for her own good," he said, sounding as though he did not truly believe the words himself.

"How?" the girl hissed.

"Maeve!" Amora said sharply, stepping closer. Maeve closed her hand on Thor's forearm quickly, feeling the enchantress' impending anger bearing down on her.

"Thor, please, look at what is happening. Where is your father, where is he? Please."

"Maeve, enough!" The blond woman snapped, anger emanating from her in waves, striding towards her.

"This isn't you," Maeve said as she gazed up at him, squeezing his fingers tightly as he held her hands. She could see something in him faltering, some small spark, something real beneath all the swagger. "Please help me. Help yourself."

Then she was being dragged to her feet, Amora's grip on her arm surprisingly strong. She winced, glaring daggers at the enchantress as she hauled her up.

"Apparently your social graces still leave a great deal to be desired," she said softly, her low voice dangerous. "You shall have to learn…"

Thor was rising to his feet, his face a blur of confusion and conflicting emotions. Maeve wriggled in Amora's grip, twisting to look at him, her voice desperate;

"We all knew you as the most benevolent God on Midgard, always. Why is everyone afraid of you now? Think! Pl-"

She was cut off as a sharp hand caught her across the cheek, shock and pain burning her. She clutched a hand to her face as she looked up at the source, white pinpricks blurring her eyes as Amora's lip curled for the briefest moment. Then she looked up at Thor, melting into a smile, her voice smooth as caramel;

"My love, forgive me. I knew she was some wild thing. I brought her only to try and please you but apparently no amount of finery can make her behave like a lady."

Adrenaline making her quiver, Maeve glared up at Amora, feeling an unpleasant dizziness begin to creep over her as she spoke. Breathing through her nose, she hung her head, trying to collect herself.

"The humans were never really worthy of you, do you see?" the Asgardian woman continued, something wicked seated deep in her words. "This one is a prime example. We treated her with kindness and she responds with savagery. You have been too good to them, my King."

Maeve found herself being forced to her knees, made to kneel on the cold marble floor as Amora glided over to Thor's side, running her fingertips over his jaw, coaxing him to look at her, his brow furrowed as though he was struggling to find some thought. The einherjar girl watched as Amora brought her lips to his, bestowing butterfly kisses on him and another surge of vertigo washed over her, making her sway. As she forced her eyes to focus she watched Amora artfully lure the Thunder God back to the throne, a slow, inane smile creeping over his features, his eyes never leaving her as she whispered and cooed to him. Maeve shook her head, trying to clear it, the taste of something sulphuric filling her mouth and as she watched Amora lean over Thor, brushing her cheek over his, it suddenly all slotted into place.

"You bitch," she said hoarsely, "it's all you. All of it."

Amora's golden head whipped around and she strode down the steps, looking down at Maeve with a malicious smile.

"Odin is going to kill you," the girl said defiantly, the magic seeping off the other woman almost causing her to retch.

"You think so?" she replied in a malevolent tone. "Get up."

Moments later Maeve was being steered through the passageways of the palace, leaving Thor behind in a stupor in his seat, lost in his own world. Struggling to keep up with the sorceress' long strides she felt her heart thrumming in her chest, adrenaline buzzing through her as Amora dragged her higher and higher until they came to a great golden set of doors. The Asgardian waved a hand as they approached and they groaned open, a rumble vibrating through the floor as they came to rest against the walls. Inside was an enormous bed and Maeve was thrown down before it, one of her hands breaking the shell of golden light as she tried to catch herself.

"Here is your precious Odin," Amora hissed behind her. "Let's see him raise his spear to me then, hm?"

Slowly Maeve raised her head, letting out a small groan when she saw the hollow faced man lying before her, his frame sunken and grey, his eye patch long since removed to cruelly display the empty socket.

"What have you done to him?" she whispered, closing her small hand around his weathered hand, unable to believe this was the great king she grew up worshipping.

"He is old and feeble," Amora said coldly, pacing around the bed. "He let himself become this."

"No," Maeve breathed, brushing her thumb over the back or the man's hand. "No, this isn't how the stories go. You did this to him…"

"You think your outdated doctrines are true?" the enchantress said with a laugh, pausing at the head of the bed. "Your species pulled them out of the air to make yourselves feel better. This is the truth, what you see now."

Maeve could feel hot tears threatening to spill as she squeezed Odin's hand. This was all horribly familiar, history repeating itself viciously. First Grayson, now this. She bowed her head, sinking into the cradle of light, resting her forehead on his fingers, Amora pacing once more as she spoke;

"Soon I am going to kill Frigga. And Freya. And your dear Loki. I will wipe the scourge from this world until it is perfect, and then, then I shall be able to concentrate on the other realms. Midgard next, I think."

Maeve swallowed, a hard lump in her throat as she sat back on her heels to glare up at Amora.

"All of this to feed your ego?" she whispered.

"To save my people!" Amora spat back, leaning forwards with her hands on the bed to look Maeve in the eye, her face breaking the light. "The Asgardians were the greatest beings in the galaxy. Then creatures like you brought them to our knees. Made them weak, insipid. Soft. It will not do. I am restoring our kind to our true glory, our true purpose; to rule the stars. You and your ilk are a contagion. You must be removed."

"You are completely insane," Maeve breathed, clutching Odin's hand protectively as she held Amora's gaze.

"It does not matter what you think," Amora said calmly straightening up again. "This is the truth of things, how they really are. You can give me your fealty or you can watch me tear Loki's heart from his chest. I do not care which you choose. You are already serving your purpose simply by being here. He will follow you and bring Freya's army with him, neatly into my hands. You've done a fine job, Maeve."

Maeve growled an expletive at the enchantress and Amora laughed, lifting a hand. With a twitch of her outstretched fingers the girl was forced to her feet, some invisible hand clutching her throat, squeezing her windpipe. As she struggled for oxygen she stared at the Asgardian, her vision foggy, pain gripping her head in a vice.

"It's almost time," Amora said softly. "I can feel them stirring, smell the horses. I hold the very heartbeat of this world, it tells me all I want to know. They are coming for us, Maeve, and I will be waiting. You've done so well."

Just before she lost consciousness Maeve was sure she saw pale streams of light rising from the sleeping Odin into Amora, casting a fine golden aura around her that grew brighter as the rest of the world grew blacker.


End file.
